HOUND RESCUE

MEMORIAL WALL

Every hound has a story. But few stories have woven their way into the fabric of Hound Rescue like Kenny. This special little guy inspired a network of love across the nation. Strangers are now friends and part of a special community with a common bond: Kenny and his foster/adopter dad, Greg Whitfield, whose memory will always be close to our hearts. Greg is our truest Hound Rescue Hero.

In May of 2021, a local partner contacted Hound Rescue to take several hounds out of a hoarding situation. Kenny was one of five who arrived via transport in the Austin area. Believed to have spent his six years of life with one owner and dozens of dogs, Kenny’s entire world changed that day and he was terrified.

His foster mom, Shannon, couldn’t get near him and struggled to even unlatch his crate. She pulled her vehicle into the back yard and opened the doors so that Kenny could emerge at his own pace. He was flea-ridden and heartworm positive. No one could touch Kenny for a week. As he began to decompress, he bonded quickly with his foster mom and beagle buddies. Unfortunately, due to his heartworm diagnosis and treatment plan, it was necessary to find a more permanent foster situation for the sake of Kenny’s physical health.

Enter Greg. A former beagle-dad from New Mexico, Greg saw Kenny’s story online and wanted to help. He was happy to drive many miles to meet Kenny, spend hours winning him over and take him back to New Mexico. Due to Kenny’s strong preference for female humans, the road was rocky. And Kenny is a runner. Shannon and Greg stayed in close contact, discussing his treatment, his decompression, and his occasional trips over the fence and around town. Kenny’s anxiety manifested in confusing ways and Greg struggled to bond with Kenny. Over many months, the foster bond grew. Kenny slowly made progress and he and Greg had a breakthrough during their Thanksgiving trip. Greg reported that Kenny played, slept on the bed and was more relaxed than ever. Greg even sent Shannon a photo with Kenny co-piloting in the car on their way home. Greg made the decision to adopt Kenny that weekend.

On Monday, December 13th, Shannon received an update from Greg. “Good morning. Kenny is doing great. He is wagging his tail more and gets excited when going for walks.” He also reported that Kenny would have a couple of routine procedures at the vet that day. Sadly, this was the last text from Greg. Hound Rescue was notified a short time later that when Greg picked Kenny up from the vet that evening, Kenny got loose and ran into traffic. Without hesitation and in keeping with all of the goodness that Greg embodied, he ran into traffic to save Kenny. Greg was hit by a vehicle that evening and passed away from his injuries. It was reported by witnesses that Kenny was hit but he escaped.

Upon hearing the tragic news of Greg’s passing, his brother, Mark was singularly focused on finding Kenny, knowing this would be Greg’s wish. He was joined in this effort by a community of friends and family. When Kenny turned up in a shelter five days later, Greg’s friend Rachel, rushed to pick him up. We now believe that Greg accomplished what he had set out to do – save Kenny. Mark decided that he would take Kenny to Northern California to live with him.

Over the past few months, Kenny has been a tremendous source of healing for Mark, as they both adjusted to life without Greg. Mark connected with a local rescuer in Sacramento named Penny, who helped retrieve Kenny during an especially harrowing escape-trip around Sacramento. Ultimately, Mark realized that Kenny was truly struggling to settle in with him. Believing that Kenny truly deserves to live his best life, Mark worked with a local reputable rescue to find a lovely, retired couple in Santa Rosa who were looking to love a beagle just like Kenny. Donna and William learned about Kenny and immediately opened their hearts and their home. He is settling in, claiming his bed and his backyard without hesitation.

Kenny’s journey, in parts tragic, inspiring, and miraculous, embodies everything that Hound Rescue holds dear. Kenny was neglected and desperately in need of love, care, and understanding. Greg’s heart and soul ran so deep that he innately understood what Kenny needed from him: gentle, patient, and relentless love. Greg and then Mark poured their hearts and souls into Kenny.

Mark knew that he was continuing Greg’s legacy of love and so shall we, in his memory.

We were never able to teach Molly to “stop”, “drop” or “halt”. As we stopped at intersections during walks, however, she learned that she had to “wait”. As time went on, she got into the habit of sitting while she waited. Early one Saturday morning, vendors were setting up at a local park for an event. Molly met most of them, including a man setting up a smoker for BBQ. As Molly sniffed towards the meat, the man pet her and said, “I’m sorry little girl. It won’t be ready for 6 hours. You’ll have to wait.” Molly locked eyes with the man and sat with a formal and determined posture. The man laughed with surprise.

Molly was a master at social protocol, in dealing with humans or other dogs. She was happy to meet other dogs, regardless of the size. It seemed to bother her, therefore, that the greyhounds that lived next door ignored her when we met them on walks. I have been told that greyhounds prefer there own breed and can appear snobbish. This seemed to be the case. It took over a year and a half for Molly to get recognition from one of the greyhounds, named “Vader”. Eye contact would be made as they approached, noses and butts would be sniffed upon meeting. Molly was happy. Almost a decade has passed since that time. Vader and his owners moved a couple of blocks away, so we rarely met them on walks. About a year ago, we started seeing Vader more often. Both Molly and Vader were in their later years. Vader had cancer, walked very slowly and took many breaks. His loving owner waited patiently. When they met, Molly and Vader would sniff each other and Vader would rest in a standing position. Molly would sit in front of Vader and just wait. I know I anthropomorphize too often, but I kept thinking of two old friends in need of a porch and an evening breeze.

Molly loved her stuffed animals. For her first trip outside in the morning, she would stuff three or four animals in her mouth and take them outside. One day I noticed that she was taking them to the edge of the pool and looking at her reflection! “Molly, the mighty hunter!”

Native to Austin are some pretty large birds. One day Molly was doing her perimeter check and a rabbit decided to tease her. The rabbit ran around the yard and Molly was no match for its speed. However, the rabbit did not expect while evading one predator, that it was to run right into a HUGE Condor.

While the fate of the rabbit was sad, the rabbit’s body was now the subject of a new problem, which animal had rightful claim to it. Loud territorial barking and squawking from both the Condor and Molly got my attention. I seem to have always known when my dog needed me.

As soon as I went outside and saw the size of this bird, I almost soiled myself. This is not an everyday homeowner problem. It must’ve had a 6ft wingspan and looked like it would pick up Molly and the rabbit like the youtube videos when birds try to snatch babies from strollers. In the background I could also hear my mom Rita yelling, save Molly. Uh yeah, but how? was the first thing I said to myself. We are fresh out if “get the condor outta my yard” spray.

I snapped into action with the first offensive idea I had and ran to the side of the house to grab a garbage can lid and a pitch fork. I don’t know why we own a pitchfork, but it looked more effective than the hula hoop next to it.
I really looked like a redneck Spartan about to go to battle with the 300 in the name of all canines.

I had to draw the attention of the Condor to me while signaling Molly to escape. Yelling at it (I think I said shoo! once, like that was going to work) and throwing a few rocks at the bird to distracted it enough so Molly could back off the bird’s meal. Molly was insistent that the rabbit could still be won as hers, stepping forward a little, but only to retract her steps when the bird would make counter advances. After I convinced Molly that dentastix would be less lethal for both of us, she backed off enough to a safe distance that the bird eyed us and picked up the rabbit and flew off.

I really don’t need a repeat of this, but would always come to her rescue. I had her back and felt great that she trusted me that day.

A couple years after we welcomed Molly into our home, we decided she needed a play pal. That new friend was Nipper, who we fostered from Hound Rescue. I am not a dog psychologist, but I think he had a touch of ADHD(Attention Deficit Hyperactive Dog).One night Molly was barking like crazy outside, like she does when the pool guy or the landscapers come. The only problem was it was 9pm and those people do not keep evening hours.

So I went outside on the porch and Molly was at the foot of the steps barking at me. Of course I said, “what is your problem! the HOA police are going to get called on us.” And that’s when the Lassie moment happened. She began nodding her head towards the fence on the right, so I start walking down the steps and she ran over to a fresh tunnel dig to the other side. It was like a dogs prison break.

Great, Nipper tunneled out. I looked at Molly and said, “at least his collar has a GPS on it”, and began walking into the house to see where he was. That’s when Molly barked at me again and picked up Nippers collar that was inside the tunnel. Ugh!

So Molly and I suited up for a late night walk and right as we started walking out the front yard, Molly begins barking again, signaling down the street. Sure enough it was Nipper taking a stroll, like he had a night out on the town (boy was he grounded). We both escorted Nipper back in and had a round of treats while Molly and I sat back to relax finally.

I was so glad Molly let me know what was going on when Nipper flew the coop. It made me feel that my dog really understood us.

After years of understanding and pinpointing Molly’s trouble bark (it’s all in the delivery of the bark), I again heard the sound of another adventure with Molly. Yes, it had to be night time and had no idea what I was up against.

Out on the back porch, Molly was at the steps and looked over to the banister of the steps leading down. I should have learned by now, as I looked over the railing and gasped as a large rat snake was coiled up ready to strike. At the time, I couldn’t tell nor did I know if it was poisonous, but I was not taking chances, this thing was at least 6-7ft long and wider than a soda can.

How do I save my dog and neither of us get bit? This again is not part of my daily routine.

I think I said shoo again (like that ever works). I was not in proximity to grab the Spartan gear I had for the condor experience. All I had was my cell phone and a loud voice, which was not going to be thrown at the snake with a desired effect. I did think I could distract it with the flashlight on my phone though, and as I focused the bright light on the snake, it did not seem to care much for my disco inferno light show.

I told Molly to wait for my signal to run up the stairs with my hand held out showing her not to move. After a minute or 2 of the annoying light in the snakes face, it started to deactivate its strike pose and move from the light. I called out for Molly to run up the stairs, and I swear, she and I were aligned on execution as if we were setting up a hockey play to win the game! She made it up the stairs and I felt like I needed to get pictures of the snake to capture the day I came to my dogs aid again.

Molly was a very smart dog. I often wondered if she could talk and had thumbs how much moreawesome would this dog be!

She didn’t fight with other dogs, only barked when she felt a threat (including some of the bad decisions I made with dates), took good care of her toys (which all had unique voices when I played with her), and she was just an all around loyal friend who was super cute and had a tendency to sit like a person (especially during holiday dinners in hopes we’d pass the turkey to her).

One of my favorite things about her was when she would greet me at the door with a mouthful of toys (it always looked funny when she’d have 5 or 6 at once in her mouth, even funnier when she tried to add a treat in there too). She would sleep on top of the couch like Snoopy did on his dog house, but when she knew it was you, she’d perk her head and ears up, leap off the couch to grab that mouthful of toys and come over to say hi, then run off with that mouthful of toys all around the house until I met her at the love seat where she would drop them and we would howl at each other before she got the chicken broth coated kibble for dinner.

She was a little camera shy, but if you could ever catch her with her ears up, they looked like pig tailed hair on a dog. It made her look incredibly irresistible, so that you just wanted to hug her.

We shared goal treats (beer for me, marrow bones for her) when our hockey team scored (bonus treats for wins), and often she would share cicadas she found in the yard. that I would unknowingly find in my bed later. She was always thinking of bringing treats for everybody.

I miss her a lot these days, she was my friend.

I do not know what is in the afterlife, if anything at all, but I would hope she’s waiting there for me with the other beagles I have loved since I was a kid.
I bet she would have a mouthful of toys, ready to howl with me, that the long day was done.